Four Steps
by MutteringFool
Summary: AU - Sirius is a proud centaur and skilled monster slayer. After shattering his leg trying to kill Fenrir, Sirius is made human by an old hermit in order to restore his mobility. Sirius is appalled with his new body, but is given the possibility of being a true centaur again if he completes one task: protect Remus, an escaped werewolf, until Fenrir is dead. [Remus/Sirius]
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Laughter filtered through the trees as the two children played amongst the fresh buds and supple greens. The forest was steadily coming out of its long slumber, so life and youth were returning to displace the gloom and silence.

A boy with ruddy cheeks and ashen hair ran after his sister, her auburn curls becoming a red streak between the towering oaks. Every now and then the boy caught a glimpse of the girl, her vibrant hazel eyes holding the promise of adventure.

The children were forbidden from going too far into the wilderness, with the warning of a spank if they ever broke that rule, and so kept near to home and the main roads. Even the busiest road leading to the local town was just a wide dirt track that occasionally saw carts and carriages from merchants, travellers and visiting aristocracy.

Hogsmeade wasn't a large town, but it was a decent port and was almost entirely surrounded by impenetrable mountains. Apart from being strategically located, from a military perspective, it was a popular destination for nobility to spend their long summers.

The young boy adored going into town, feeling like a man when his father sat him up on one of the tall stools at the local tavern. The barkeeper was always willing to play the game and treat him like an adult, pretending to serve a glass of whiskey for his long day. His sister was less interested, preferring their more modest village, one of many that surrounded the town, and the secret-swollen forest.

The boy grabbed his sister's arm, having caught up with her, and pulled her back as she had frozen in the middle of the road. They looked up with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Don't worry about him. Despite how he looks, he's harmless," a handsome young man told the children as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. The boy tore his eyes from the towering figure, having just noticed the bespectacled man with dark windswept hair and a mischievous grin.

An irritated stomp brought his attention back to what his sister had yet to be distracted from. A young centaur stared down at the pair. The black hair that elegantly fell to his shoulders complimented his solid and sleek ebony lower body. The boy was reminded of when his father had shown him an Arabian stallion, a prized possession of one of the aristocrats.

The centaur's upper half, what could be mistaken as human, was pale and with an almost spectral quality. Despite the stern expression, his glacial grey eyes holding the children in place, he had the more charming features of aristocracy with an aquiline nose and high cheekbones.

"Can you not see that this is a road?" the centaur eventually spoke. The children floundered to find words.

"They're only children," the other man lightly reminded his companion.

"That's all well and good, James, but I can't be looking down all the time to make sure I don't step on some random human urchin," the centaur said.

"Now, now, be-hay-ve," James said, trying to control the growing smirk.

"I am behaving. Children should be more aware of their surroundings. It's for their own protection as well as my need to move around without stumbling over small humans. Wait, was that a horse pun?"

"Me, my good sir, neigh!" James answered.

"Firstly, I am not a horse. Secondly, I will hit you," the centaur said.

"You win, Sirius. I'll rein it in," James relented, raising his hands in submission. However, his inability to repress a Cheshire grin caused his comrade to narrow his gaze. Slowly, the centaur reached for his side and began to unsheathe a deadly looking blade. The children's eyes widened.

"You said hit, not impale!" James argued as he moved back a step.

"Yes, I will hit you. I will hit you with my sword. Is that a problem?" the centaur asked.

"I haven't even won the heart of my fair lady yet! Is my true love doomed to never be fulfilled?!" James melodramatically cried with a hand on his heart. The children were beginning to wonder if the young man was being brave or simply foolish.

"That's the case whether or not I stab you," the centaur said, completely deadpan.

"You wound me! I thought you were my brother, Sirius. You should support me, because one day you may be promoted to the babysitter of our beautiful children. Also, that time you said stab, which is different to hitting," James told Sirius.

"In a world where you are successful, you would put even smaller, and potentially more annoying, children under my feet to trip over? We're going backwards with progress here," Sirius said.

"I'm sorry for almost tripping you up," the young girl finally interjected, breaking the peculiar argument between the two men.

"Don't worry about it, he's just sensitive," James kindly told the girl. Sirius just let out a long and exasperated sigh, this time stomping his rear hoof. James noticed the boy was watching, with some degree of fascination, the blade that Sirius was placing back in the sheath.

"We hunt monsters. That's why we have these types of weapons," James explained. He did not want the villagers to become needlessly concerned by a pair of men that could be interpreted as bandits or cut-throats. Stories from children could quickly get out of hand.

"Are you the famous hunters father told us about?" the boy asked with wide eyes.

"What did your father tell you?" James asked diplomatically.

"Father tells us stories about a man and a centaur that can slay any wild beast or monster. They're known in every country, even ones across the sea, but they were born right here," the boy told the men.

"Unless there is another pair like us, which is probably quite unlikely, that sounds about right. I don't know about every country, but we've been around. It's good to be home, though. The last four years were quite eventful," James said. The boy's mouth had opened in surprise, forming a perfect circle.

"Anyway, we really should be going, and your parents will be worried if you're missing for too long," James said, giving a brief farewell nod. It was then, as the pair passed, that the children could see all the armour and weaponry strapped to them. It was not like the procession guards, with their gleaming ceremonial armour that had never seen the field, but battered and worn from battle. It was used as real protection from creatures that lurked in the dark. A large bag was strapped to the centaur's lower body, but he seemed almost unaware of any additional weight or hindrance.

The children stood at the side of the road until the pair had disappeared from sight. As soon as the men were gone, grinning at each other with excited eyes, they ran home as fast as they could to tell others of the hunters they had met on the old dirt road.

* * *

><p>Does this warrant continuation?<br>Interested to see what happens next?  
>Please Review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 **

Streams of aurulent light filtered through the dust laden windows, but even then the wooden cabin maintained a still and sombre quality. The room was large, but sparse. There were odd pieces of mismatched furniture pushed against the side of the room, keeping the central area clear and the unlit hearth easily accessible.

In the entire space, there were two chairs. A rotund man, with watery eyes and a sickly complexion, sat on one whilst the other remained empty. He twisted the cup in his hands, watching as the ale gently lapped at the sides. He was a nervous man by nature, prone to fidgeting and touching his pale and lustreless hair so that it was always kept in its appropriate place.

"I take it that James is out?" the man finally enquired.

Sirius, who had been looking amongst his possessions for a very particular knife, paused in his search. He smoothly straightened back up and walked over towards his companion. He reached for his own cup and took a swift gulp before moving on to another section of the room.

"Yes, James is trying to win the heart of one very uninterested young maiden," Sirius told Peter, smiling slightly. He had yet to meet this girl, but he could imagine James making a complete fool of himself whilst trying to win her affection. Apparently, James had known her for years, but had only begun to seriously pursue her just a month prior to their extended trip across the continents. Seeing that the lady was still available, as if a suitor or husband would have made a difference to the love-struck fool, he sought to resume his courtship. Therefore, Sirius did not know who this lady was, but until she was a solid fixture in James's life he didn't particularly care either.

"Ah, yes, I've heard about that. Do you know who she is?" Peter asked. He had always been a curious man, wanting to be fully informed and armed for every opportunity.

"No, I don't believe I've met her. If anything serious happens, James will introduce me. Although, at this rate, I'll be senile," Sirius told the small man, earning a light chuckle.

"I ought to be heading back soon. I don't want to be caught outside after dark," Peter told Sirius.

"We're close enough to the villages, or is little Peter still afraid of things that go bump in the night?" Sirius teasingly asked.

"I'll have you know that it's better to be safe than sorry. Even if we're in a reportedly safe area, I'd rather not take my chances," Peter answered curtly.

"If it's any consolation, whatever it is, I've probably killed it," Sirius told him before showing his appreciation of having found what he had been searching for.

"Found it. Is this the one you wanted?" Sirius trotted over, making the floorboards shudder slightly.

"Yes, just the one I need. You can't use this knife to chop that root. This spoon can't be used on that paste. It's doing my head in," Peter told the centaur. Sirius merely laughed at the poor impersonation of Slughorn, a skilled apothecary and Peter's mentor.

"This is what you get for trying to enter a standard and reputable career," Sirius told him. Peter huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Sirius!" the pair heard a shout from the forest. Sirius instantly picked up a sword, almost on reflex, and quickly made his way outside. Peter was not far behind him, taking inspiration and picking up a small dagger for emergency purposes.

Sirius's humble cabin was located on the mountainside, surrounded by a wall of rock on one side and an army of trees on the other. The easiest method to reach his small sanctuary was by an old dirt track. James had reached the top of this incline, but had paused and was waiting for Sirius to approach him.

"What's wrong, James?" Sirius asked as he stood in front of his friend. James was bent over, holding his knees as he desperately tried to draw in more air. From the perspiration on his brow, it was clear he had been running for some while.

"I was trying to get Lily's attention . . ." James began.

"Oh, not this again," Sirius sighed.

"Listen!" James impatiently snapped, regaining Sirius's attention. "I was trying to talk to Lily when I overheard some guards on patrol talking. I struck up a conversation with them and managed to get them to tell me that Fenrir has been seen in the area. It's like you said, he's back!"

"Did you get anything else?" Sirius asked. His voice was flat and devoid of warmth.

"Apparently, although this much is a rumour, he was seen several miles west of the old stone bridge not that long ago," James said.

"I'm going," was Sirius's immediate response.

"My armour and weapons are back at home. We need to go there first!" James said.

Sirius turned and ran back into his bare wooden home. Peter had to jump aside for fear of being knocked down. Despite being such a large creature, Sirius was light on his feet and moved with finesse. He quickly donned his armour and begun to strap on all of the weapons he thought would be useful without weighing him down too greatly. After four years of searching, Sirius's patience was almost non-existent.

The grotesque and monstrous werewolf had returned, appearing as suddenly as he had disappeared. Sirius did not want to miss the opportunity of plunging his blade straight through his heart. In an ideal world, the man would suffer before the end.

"Sirius, are you listening?" James called out as he stood at the threshold, clutching the door frame as though to keep him rooted.

"There's no time, I have to get there now," Sirius told James.

"No, Sirius. It's bad enough if you think just the two of us can do this without a plan or any preparation. He probably has an entire pack with him and you expect to just charge in and succeed?! Don't you even dare suggest you're going alone," James warned.

"Step aside, James," Sirius said, his tone suggesting more a thinly veiled threat. For the first time in years, James was intimidated by the centaur that stood proudly in the centre of the dark room. Sirius was like some avenging spirit from a dream or nightmare.

"Please, we'll come up with something." James was getting desperate.

"Yes, Sirius, remember all the stories you've told me. Everything needs a plan and preparation. Don't let your anger rule you," Peter added, peeking around James and quite prepared to jump to safety if the centaur decided to charge.

"Everything I've done until now was preparation. Now, move or be moved." With that, Sirius strode forward. He moved briskly, using enough force to shove James to the side without significantly harming him. Peter had already moved out of his warpath.

As soon as Sirius was through the door he broke into a run that was as fast as his legs could carry him, holding the hilt of his sword in anticipation. James clutched his shoulder, the rest of his arm feeling numb after roughly hitting the side of the house, as he watched his best friend disappear down the mountain path. The clouds of dust that were sent spiralling upwards into the air caused both men to cough and splutter.

Sirius could vaguely hear his name being called, but the wide arms of the trees swiftly caught such disruptive noises and soon there was only a tense silence.

Even the birds had grown still, seemingly aware of what was about to transpire.

The bodies of the trees grew closer, and soon even the sun had limited access to the secrets of this ancient forest. Sirius was forced to slow his pace as roots reached up to grab at his ankles. It seemed even the plants liked to play a role in the chase between predator and prey. Sirius pulled out his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light. He was limited in space and manoeuvrability, and there was the growing concern that his ability to turn about was severely reduced. Sirius refused to turn back, though, he knew he was close and he had been waiting so long for this moment. Every second Fenrir lived was a personal insult.

Sirius didn't even bother finding the old stone bridge, choosing to cross the river a few miles upstream. The water was frigid, stroking his legs and soothing them into numbness, but he barely noticed as adrenaline surged through his veins.

His years of tracking monsters and beasts had served him well. He knew he was close. Slowing his pace, he began to take more deliberation before making a step.

He slowly removed the bow from his back and pulled out an arrow, using a wide trunk to conceal his frame. Even from a distance, the dishevelled men with lupine features were almost certainly monsters. As Sirius was standing downwind, he could just about catch on the light wind the scent of blood. Their eyes, like his blade, glimmered as they gestured with hands that resembled closer to claws.

Steadying his breathing, Sirius drew and released the arrow so that it could sail smoothly into the skull of the creature on the right. The other, surprised, turned and hurtled through the trees towards Sirius. He snarled in rage, but Sirius had anticipated this and had already drawn his sword. In one fell swoop, the second werewolf lay dead at his feet.

From their corpses, it was clear that these were not Fenrir's best and brightest. They went down far too easily. They had probably been sent to patrol the area, an expendable force.

Sirius continued to traverse the undergrowth and navigate around trees that were becoming ever weirder and more wonderful. Roots became archways and shadows begun to take a life of their own.

The sudden snapping of a nearby twig allowed Sirius to turn just in time as something large crashed into him. Sirius was knocked over, his legs losing connection with the leaf littered floor, and his mind spun trying to make sense of what was happening. He was surprised that he had not sensed the disruption, the overpowering taint that made the beast almost impenetrable to magic. It was smothering Sirius now, pressing on his lungs as he struggled to breathe.

What Sirius couldn't understand was how there can possibly be a mound of muscle, fur and teeth snapping at him. Sirius struck at the werewolf, using a spare dagger as his sword had been flung into the nearby undergrowth, trying to tear into the flesh and distract the beast long enough so that he could stand. Although the trees had taken the place of the sky, Sirius did not believe it was nightfall and he was even more certain that the moon was only destined to be a waning gibbous. The other werewolves had been human in appearance.

The flash of grizzled grey and the luminous yellow eyes unmistakably belonged to Fenrir. The monster had grown, gorged on children and innocents. Sirius tried to hold the gnashing jaws back, kicking with one leg to try and dislodge the razor sharp claws that were tearing into his body.

As a centaur, Sirius was immune to the curse of a werewolf, but the creature could still kill him. Sirius's heart hammered in his chest, like a bird trying to escape its cage out of fear, as he attempted to wound the beast whilst trying to find some way to escape. He knew each blow was one more shovel of dirt and soon he would be in his grave. Pain had abandoned him, and he could hardly tell whose blood ran thicker as the pair were drenched with it and sweat.

Fenrir clamped down on his shoulder, causing Sirius to cry out and strike at him more furiously, with the teeth sinking deeper as he was shaken like a ragdoll. Sirius felt a pressure building on the inside of his skull, the sounds of their battle becoming distorted, and he knew he was going to fall unconscious soon. Sirius had anticipated ending in such a way, finally defeated by some dark creature that refused to die by his hand, but not by this demonic animal.

A nearby shriek and loud crackle caught the beast's attention. Leaving Sirius for dead, the werewolf stalked through the forest towards the sound. Apart from a slight limp, it was as though Fenrir was barely hindered by their encounter. Sirius was angry to have his final fight so casually ignored, his opponent walking off without even bothering to finish the deed.

Sirius tried to move, but realised he was unable to. There was something seriously wrong with his lower body. The forest was becoming darker and there was too much blood to identify what damage had actually been done. Despite all of this, Sirius could barely muster any concern over his situation. As pain was steadily beginning to return, his eyes grew heavier. The fatigue settled in his bones and drained his will. Leaning against a large root, Sirius allowed his eyes to close, wanting to drift into a peaceful sleep. He did not want to acknowledge his dire situation, alone in a forest that would keep what happened there a secret like the many others it held.

Just before losing consciousness, he heard approaching footsteps. Perhaps Fenrir had come to finish what he started, but the hand that reached out to touch him was soft.

* * *

><p>Still interested?<br>Want to know what happens next?  
>Please Review!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2 **

Death was uncomfortable. Sirius's body made its displeasure known by creeping into his dreams and transforming his slumber into a waking nightmare. The creatures that tore at him in the dark ripped Sirius from the inky waters of his subconscious and he found himself coated in a warm light.

As his eyes adjusted, realising that the pain in his battered body had not been a figment of his imagination, Sirius found himself in a circular room. Perched high up in the rafters was a large bird with fiery plumage and an impressive tail that swayed gently in the cool breeze from the large open windows. The room was filled with oddities, strange mechanical instruments that moved rhythmically and enough leather bound books to make any learned individual jealous.

Sirius tried to move, but instantly realised something was horrifically wrong. He blinked rapidly to clear the remaining haze from his eyes. The pale sheets that were draped over him ended too suddenly. In horror, he tore the covers off, letting them slide onto the stone floor, and saw that his entire lower body was not missing, but transformed. Where there was once a proud centaur, was now a battered, but perfectly proportional, human man. Sirius felt nauseous, something inside of him sunk into a chasm he had not known was there. The fact that he could move the pale and long human limbs that were now attached to him only enhanced his disgust and fear.

"Ah, I see you are finally awake," said a soothing voice. "I will make us a cup of tea."

Sirius's head rapidly turned to watch the peculiar human walk slowly into the room, slightly hunched over from old age. He smiled at Sirius, his cobalt eyes shining with intrigue behind half-moon spectacles. His face was surrounded by a white waterfall of hair, flowing seamlessly into a long beard that was just as impressive as his deep blue robes.

Questions flooded Sirius's mind.

"Why am I here?" Sirius asked, needing to start from somewhere.

"You were found injured in the forest. I took you to my home so that I could see to your wounds," was the simple answer. The old man made a casual sweep of his hand and steam began to rise from the spout of a floral teapot. Another gesture from a finger caused two matching cups to rise up out of their position on a shelf and land softly on a nearby mahogany table.

"What did you do to me?" Sirius asked, his tone acidic as he realised that the extravagant figure was capable of causing his disfigurement.

"I think I ought to introduce myself, Sirius. Yes, I know who you are and what you do. My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am a hermit that lives in these woods," Dumbledore began. Sirius waited for his original question to be answered, masking his surprise that the legendary Dumbledore was not just a myth. "The bones in your leg were shattered in the attack, and because the damage was caused by a werewolf I could not heal it with magic. I know the consequences of a broken leg for a centaur. The only way to restore your mobility and allow you to carry on your profession was to remove two legs and give you a human form. I know this is must be unfortunate news for you."

"This must be unfortunate news? You've maimed me!" Sirius yelled.

"Your predicament was caused through your own folly. Even if you had managed to survive alone, you would have been left unable to walk. I have given you a second chance," Dumbledore explained.

"So you thought making me human was the better option? You thought I'd appreciate being in this form over the alternatives?" Sirius asked, outraged and overwhelmed by the entire situation.

"It is my understanding that you chose to slay monsters in order to set your own course and defy prejudices," the hermit said.

"Just because I associate with humans does not mean I want to be human. I am a centaur," Sirius responded, his gaze narrowing.

"What is wrong with being human?" Dumbledore asked.

"You're greedy, self-centred, corrupted and destructive. You're tiny, procreate like rabbits and have little spindly legs," Sirius began.

"Is that your opinion of all humans?" Dumbledore asked.

Sirius took some time to answer before begrudgingly admitting, "No."

"You wanted people to take you seriously as a centaur and monster hunter, a profession that is almost unheard of amongst your kind, and yet you scorn those who would want the same curtesy. I understand that all of this is a lot to take in, but things are not always as bad as they appear," Dumbledore said. Sirius frowned, staring at his new limbs, but said nothing.

"I have left some clothes for you in the cabinet of that bedside table. Now, how do you like your tea?" Dumbledore pulled the conversation away to a lighter topic, giving Sirius some time to adjust to his new situation.

"Two sugars, please," the centaur finally said before looking in the cupboard for something to wear. He felt vulnerable and wanted to occupy his hands.

Sirius, from travelling with James for several years, recognised that he was wearing typical human undergarments. He slipped on a simple white shirt, not wanting to linger on the scars that were Fenrir's artwork. Admittedly, most of them were on their way to recovery and the worst had been neatly sewn up, but they were a bold statement of his failings. He then looked at the earthy brown trousers more curiously.

Able to move his new legs, he swung them over the side of the bed and mimicked what he had seen James do in the past. He took the trousers, trying to determine which side was the front, and then began to wrestle his legs into them. It was more complicated than it seemed, his feet constantly becoming trapped in the material. Once they were half way up his leg, seeing as he could only delay the task for so long, he attempted to stand.

"Do you require some assistance?" Dumbledore asked after he heard a dull thud from behind.

"No. How do you even balance on these things?" Sirius muttered the last part as he pushed himself up from the floor and tried to stand again. Sirius swayed to the side and so he used the bedside table as a support. With the other hand he roughly pulled the trousers up the rest of his thigh and buttoned them once the material was around his waist. He found them extremely uncomfortable, scratching and confining his legs, which did not help to improve his mood. His body ached and he accomplished two small steps, holding anything he could find so as to keep balance, before sitting back down.

Dumbledore seemed to sense that Sirius needed to be left alone for his first steps, and only turned around once Sirius was seated back on the bed. He brought both cups over along with some biscuits and placed them all on Sirius's bedside table.

"You will be up and moving around in no time," Dumbledore told Sirius optimistically. Sirius did not look convinced and deliberately avoided eye contact.

Dumbledore paused for a moment before going to his desk. He gently placed some of the parchments that covered the surface to the side and picked up two simple walking sticks that had been resting there. He returned to Sirius and held out the canes for him. Sirius frowned at the outstretched hand, but seeing that Dumbledore was waiting patiently he took the objects and lay them on his lap.

"These might be of use to you," was all Dumbledore said. Sirius nodded once, his hands running across the walking apparatus.

* * *

><p>Sleep did not come easy to Sirius that night as Fear kept him company with endless questions. Shame taunted and mocked him till his hands balled into fists and he screamed into the pillow for some reprieve. Even if Dumbledore heard the centaur's cries, he did not come and left the creature to mourn in peace.<p>

Dawn could not have been more welcome. As soon as the sky was pale enough for colours to blossom back into the world, Sirius was ready to begin anew. Having pulled off his trousers and shirt in order to try and sleep more comfortably, he went through the motions of dressing himself again. Whilst easier, he still found the task frustrating as his feet refused to slip smoothly through the legs.

Then, as he was alone, Sirius grabbed the two canes and attempted to walk. He began by using the crutches like his missing legs, resembling the grace of a new-born foal. He fell several times, but he refused to admit defeat. By the time there was a gentle knock on the door Sirius was able to shuffle slowly around the room.

"It's your house," Sirius answered. Dumbledore slowly opened the door, smiling when he saw the centaur standing with his crutches by the window.

"Good morning, Sirius. It may be my house, but you are also my guest," Dumbledore greeted in return. "I am glad to see that you are up and about."

"How long was I unconscious for? The moon was not as full last night as when I last saw it before the attack," Sirius said.

"You were asleep for four days," Dumbledore said. Sirius covered his surprise by keeping his gaze focused on the view outside of the window. Dumbledore maintained a small garden that was surrounded by a dilapidated picket fence. Sirius could identify several types of herb and medicinal flower, but there were many other wonderful plants of vibrant colours that he had never seen before. Dumbledore's residence was situated on the edge of the forest, the line of trees visible from where Sirius stood, and was tucked away from human habitation. The only thread that tied them to civilisation was a road which led beyond Sirius's eye line. Sirius was curious to explore the area, but wanted to regain his balance before attempting such a feat.

"As you will be staying here for the foreseeable future, I expect you to earn your keep," Dumbledore told Sirius. It was not said cruelly, and Sirius could not understand the light that sparked behind the old man's eyes as though he were holding a great secret that he was hoping would be discovered.

"What would you have me do?" Sirius asked bluntly.

"After breakfast, you can help me by organising and clearing away some of these books," was the simple response.

* * *

><p>Sirius quickly noticed how the tasks he was given involved moving around the room, with each order slightly more challenging than the last. He was also under the impression that Dumbledore took some amusement in watching his small successes and failures. He was sure that the man had laughed under his breath when Sirius found pleasure in being able to turn quickly and without having to mind what was behind him. There may be several advantages to being human.<p>

It took another three days before Sirius was able to walk without the use of a walking stick. Admittedly, Sirius was aided by various medicines that improved his health and numbed his pains, but it was sheer willpower that caused him to improve so rapidly. He would periodically shift between using one stick in order to carry more objects and using both canes as an emergency support when trying to walk independently.

"Sirius, I have something I would like you to see," Dumbledore said as Sirius entered the house with a small sack of garlic, green onions and rhubarb from the garden. Sirius had found that the exterior of the house held the same rustic charms as its interior, with a thatched roof and white-wash walls.

"Let me just put these in the kitchen," Sirius said. The centaur still moved slowly, wincing on occasion as an injury protested, but Dumbledore was very patient and waited.

"Follow me," Dumbledore said when Sirius joined him.

Dumbledore walked to and opened the one door he had asked Sirius not to enter without his permission. Being a hermit who was used to his privacy, Sirius accepted this and did not pry. Centaurs were not needlessly curious. He knew the old man had some secrets, as most do, but they did not warrant suspicion. Whilst Sirius did not appreciate his human form, he did acknowledge that the reason he was alive was because of Dumbledore and his efforts.

Sirius frowned in confusion when he looked beyond the threshold to see a long corridor with multiple doors along the right side. This space, like the rest of the house, was flooded with light by large windows that were situated on the left. Sirius could not understand how he had not seen this section of the house from the outside.

Dumbledore walked to the end of the corridor, Sirius not too far behind him.

The last door opened up into a large bedroom. Magnolia curtains billowed in the cool wind, matching the pale walls. The wooden floorboards creaked as they stepped inside, the only noise permitted as the room commanded quiet. The only objects in the space were an old chair, a simple wardrobe and, in the centre of the room, a large and beautifully crafted bed.

Dumbledore stood by the foot of the bed and beckoned Sirius over. Sirius was hesitant at first, but obeyed and stood beside his temporary keeper.

A young man lay buried in crisp white sheets, wrapped generously in bandages. The only part of him exposed was his face, and even that was marred by a long scratch that extended from his brow to his jaw in one smooth line. A small frown revealed that the troubled stranger could not escape even in his dreams. Long eyelashes fluttered briefly, but he did not wake.

Silken hair framed his slim face, a warm brown that glimmered gold in the sunlight. He was almost as pale as Sirius, but his complexion was sicklier and there were dark smudges under his eyes from exhaustion.

"This is Remus, my apprentice," Dumbledore introduced the unconscious man. "I have given him some strong medicine, but I expect he will be awake by tomorrow afternoon."

"What happened to him?" Sirius asked, knowing there must have been a reason for Dumbledore to show him this.

"He was attacked by the same individual who almost killed you," Dumbledore said, unsurprised to find Sirius's gaze harden. "When Remus was a young boy he was bitten by Fenrir. After living with Fenrir's pack for several years he managed to escape and found me. He has been living here ever since under my protection."

Dumbledore's words no longer reached Sirius and all he could see was one of Fenrir's monstrous creations lying in a human bed. Sirius unsheathed the dagger he kept on his belt, unwilling to spend any extended amount of time unarmed, and approached the head of the bed.

"Then, I will put this wretch out of its misery," Sirius stated coldly.

Dumbledore barely had to move his hand for the blade to be ripped from Sirius's grasp and to clatter on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Sirius held his wrist, sore from suddenly being wrenched to the side.

"Remus is not at fault for the circumstances that befell him. He is kind-hearted, intelligent and loyal. I have been teaching him how to live in the human world, because whilst Remus escaped out of his own free will, most of his life was spent under Fenrir's influence. He has come a long way, but Fenrir has returned and does not let go of what he considers his property. I helped you not only to give you a second chance, but to give Remus another chance," Dumbledore explained.

"How do I come into this? I will not help a werewolf, especially anything tainted by Fenrir," Sirius immediately responded.

"Remus was discovered by some of Fenrir's followers during the last full moon. I do not know what would have happened if he had not taken the wolfsbane potion that evening. With a human mind he could escape, but even that has its limitations and I can no longer offer him the protection he needs."

"You expect me to play child-minder?" Sirius asked incredulously, hardly repressing a sneer.

"I want you to protect him. If your reputation precedes you, then I believe you are quite capable. You have been taught a severe lesson because you underestimated Fenrir, but I am confident that this event will make you stronger and wiser. You seek revenge, to put an end to this dark creature, and with that Remus would be free to live his life as he chooses," Dumbledore continued.

"Yes, I somewhat appreciate that you saved my life, but it was also your choice to help me. I have no obligation to guard this creature and it would be better off if I just ended its existence now," Sirius told Dumbledore bluntly.

"Remus could provide valuable insight into Fenrir's methodology," Dumbledore said.

"Tempting, but you forget that I am still a centaur. I do not like to be used and I do not help monsters," Sirius answered.

Sirius stood firm against Dumbledore's gaze. Dumbledore's expression had barely shifted during the conversation, but his features were more severe and the light that flickered in his pupils had become colder.

"Sometimes we cannot see what we really need," the old man commented quietly before changing tact. "I can make you a suitable proposition, Sirius. Magic is peculiar in that, in this state, there is the possibility for your legs to fully recover. I have made you human, but there is still some residual damage. However, human bones can mend, especially as they do not shatter and bend like in the lower body of a centaur. The damage from Fenrir may eventually disappear. At that time, there is a chance that, if I were to return you to your original form, your mobility would be restored as a perfectly formed human becomes a perfectly formed centaur. It may take several months, but it is possible."

"You could turn me back? You mean I could be as I was before the attack?" Sirius asked with growing excitement.

"I cannot guarantee success as it is not something that I have seen done before, but in theory I believe it is possible. My condition for this opportunity is simple," Dumbledore said.

"You want me to protect that creature until Fenrir is dead," Sirius stated.

"To put it bluntly: yes. Fenrir has lost his humanity and thrives on the suffering of others. Whilst I wish there was a peaceful alternative, in the midst of what is to come, it is not only the pair of you who will benefit from Fenrir's demise," Dumbledore admitted, ignoring Sirius's derogatory remarks.

"What is to come? What do you mean?" Sirius asked, wondering what the old hermit was withholding from him.

"You will know in due time, but for now this is of the utmost importance. Come now, we should leave Remus to rest," Dumbledore finished with, gesturing for Sirius to leave first. Sirius simply nodded, turning on his heel and leaving as briskly as his new legs would currently allow. He chose to gather his thoughts for the remainder of that afternoon, only returning to the property once the sun had painted fire into the sky.

* * *

><p>Thank you to those who followfavourite/review as it motivates me to get the next chapter out!  
>How do you like it so far?<br>What is your opinion of the writing style?  
>Please Review!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

The blade glided smoothly into the flesh. Sirius was sat on a stone windowsill, peeling a green apple with a recently sharpened knife. He threw the peel out into the garden, aiming for a patch of soil beneath some leaves so that it could function as fertiliser for Dumbledore's beloved garden. When he was finished, eating the last piece off the tip of his knife, the core joined the peel. Sirius initially wondered how an autumnal fruit could be edible in spring, but Dumbledore was capable of far stranger feats.

Ever since his meeting with the unconscious werewolf, Sirius avoided Dumbledore. He ensured that he was always armed and that his knife was visible as it sat neatly in its sheath on his hip. His dagger was the only weapon salvaged from the attack, but he also considered it the only tangible link to his past. Dumbledore's abode was so isolated and picturesque that it was easy to become lulled into a false sense of security.

"Ah, there you are," Dumbledore said as he walked into the main living space that also functioned as Sirius's sleeping quarters.

Sirius did not move, but his eyes flickered upwards to watch the old man approach him.

"I have something I would like you to do," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Sirius's increasingly wary gaze.

"Go outside and turn right. Follow the road until you reach a small town named Camden. Once you are there, find a man called Shacklebolt. He works in the smith with his son. Tell him that I sent you and give him this letter and these coins," Dumbledore told him.

Sirius seemed to contemplate his next course of action before straightening up and taking the items in Dumbledore's hand. He tucked them away in a trouser pocket.

"Just turn right and follow the road?" Sirius asked in order to clarify.

"Yes, you should not get lost," Dumbledore said, forming a small smile.

Sirius nodded once. He stood and left without another word. He chose not to take his walking sticks, not wanting to appear vulnerable or weak. It was still early morning, so he would not have to race the sun.

* * *

><p>It was approaching midday by the time Sirius found the bustling town of Camden. Children played in the cobblestone streets whilst shopkeepers beckoned customers to view their wares. It was smaller than Hogsmeade and lacked the presence of the aristocracy. There were no rich silks swaying from market stalls or the sweet scent of perfumes tempting the senses. It was a practical place filled with humble peasant folk trying to survive.<p>

Sirius believed that his new form would provide him some anonymity and allow him to blend into the crowd. However, Sirius found that curious eyes followed him. Young maidens tittered and whispered as he passed. He could feel their stares on his back and his legs were beginning to ache, but he was resolved to ignore both for as long as possible.

"Can I help you?" asked a young woman, standing beside Sirius as he contemplated whether to turn left or right down another road. She fiddled with the ends of her copper waves, twirling them around a slim finger as she looked at him with bright verdant eyes.

"I'm looking for the local smith," Sirius said, not wanting to spend any more time searching the town and making it obvious that he was in unfamiliar grounds.

"Oh, that's right around the corner from here. You just need to keep to the main street and you'll see a sign," she told him. "I could take you there if you'd like."

"No need to trouble yourself. I will manage," Sirius said, already beginning to follow her instructions.

"I work at the bakery," she said as she sprung forward to keep pace with him. "My name is Molly. I haven't seen you around here before. What's your name?"

Sirius contemplated whether to use his real name in public, especially as it was uncommon. Whilst he believed he could dissuade anyone from realising his identity, despite his upper body remaining unchanged, using his real name would be tempting fate. Shame would probably kill Sirius sooner than any act of revenge if certain individuals discovered what had happened to the centaur.

"Padfoot," Sirius responded.

"That's an unusual name," the girl commented.

"It's a nickname," Sirius said, not wanting to arouse suspicion. The variety of sensations through the soles of his feet were surreal when compared to feeling the world through hardened hooves and so he was unsurprised that he had plucked such a name from his subconscious.

"How did you get it?" Molly asked.

"I have the lightest footsteps in my family," Sirius answered, withholding a smirk as Molly looked at him with some degree of confusion.

"Thank you for assisting me," Sirius commented as they stood outside of the smith shop.

"Oh, it was my pleasure. If you ever need a guide, just call for me. My father's shop is just down this road on the left. I don't mean to brag, but we really do sell the best bread and I highly recommend them," Molly told him.

"If I find myself in town again, I'll come and visit," Sirius answered diplomatically.

"Excellent. I hope to see you soon." Molly then smiled, waved once and walked back down towards where she said her father's bakery was located.

Sirius sighed before walking inside. The entire space was constructed from thick stone and heavy timber. Despite the ochre glow of a fire in the hearth at the other end of the room, light did not thrive here and was quickly extinguished as it reached out beyond its limitations. Shadows reigned, although some objects were permitted to gleam in the gloom.

"Can I help you?"

Sirius's head shot in the direction of the booming voice.

"I am looking for someone by the name of Shacklebolt," Sirius told the tall figure.

The man cleaned his hands with a spare cloth he pulled from his belt, smiling broadly. A thin sheen of sweat covered his massive form, thick muscles moving beneath mahogany skin. Dark eyes regarded Sirius with an internal flame that was comparable with the nearby hearth.

"You've come to the right place. You're Sirius, am I correct?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Yes, I was told by Dumbledore to give you this," Sirius said as he pulled out the items from his pocket.

Shacklebolt opened the small leather bag and tipped the coins out into his hand. He shuffled the money in his palm, counting quietly under his breath, and after placing them back in the bag he smiled again. He skimmed the letter, but he seemed to expect the contents and was unsurprised.

"My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. Dumbledore sent me an order several days ago to supply you with armour and a new sword. He must really like you because he spared no expenses," the man then laughed.

"You make armour _and _weapons?" Sirius asked. Dumbledore was a surprising figure and Sirius found it somewhat difficult to keep pace with his thoughts. He supposed that by helping him, he was then helping Remus. Regardless, Sirius kept his opinions to himself.

"Of course we do!" proclaimed another voice. An older and slightly more weathered version of Kingsley entered the room. "Like most boys these days, my son was no different and wanted to work with anything sharp or pointy. Sold our shop in the Capital to get this cave," he said.

"We sold our old shop because the doctor said it would do you some good to get out of the city. We have fresh air and fresh vegetables here. Even your cough is gone, so don't complain," Kingsley argued.

"You just wanted more space so that you could make your swords and your maces. You couldn't just go into the family business," the father retorted.

"What my father is trying to say is that I make weapons and he makes armour," Kingsley finished, redirecting his attention to Sirius. "I have something I think you'd like."

Kingsley quickly manoeuvred around the room. His hands hovered over a large work bench before picking up a dark object. He swiftly made his way back and held out the item for Sirius to inspect.

Sirius carefully withdrew the sword from its sheath, partially as he was unsure of what to expect as well as a sign of respect for the craftsman. It was a simple sword, incredibly practical, but a beautiful piece of weaponry. He enjoyed the grip of the handle, feeling the blade as though it were an extra limb. He marvelled at its lightness and balance, gently swinging the sword in loose arcs.

"Toughest and lightest metal I could get my hands on. I'd bet you my shop that could cleave a dragon's skull and not break," Kingsley proudly stated.

"This is a very fine sword," Sirius approvingly noted, earning another grin from Kingsley.

"You just wait till you see what I have for you," the father stated as he walked back into the room with his own bundle. Sirius, so enthralled with his new sword, had not noticed the old man's movements. Admittedly, Sirius owned a wide variety of blades and some of his weapons from abroad were stunning, but he knew this sword would be a frequent companion in battle. He could find no faults.

Sirius saw the armour and felt a twinge of reluctance. Sirius dreaded the feel of hardened leather on his human legs, bringing increasing awareness to his new form and reminding him that he could no longer be as he once was.

"Come on, boy, strip down!" the old man demanded.

Sirius peeled off his shirt and hesitantly removed his trousers. The pair did not comment on the lattice work of scars, but Sirius did notice an exchange of glances between them.

"Put these on first. They may look like regular leather trousers, but they're soft, flexible and as tough as nails," the father said as he passed Sirius the garment.

Sirius sat down whilst trying to push his foot through the leg, not yet trusting his balance. He loathed how the material hugged his legs, but he also acknowledged that such weak limbs would benefit from being fully protected.

"Now, here comes the fun part. Slip this on and then we can start strapping on the rest and making any amendments. Since Dumbledore asked for a full set, I ordered for the boots to be made elsewhere. Everything else is my handy work, though," the father said, wanting to take credit where credit was due. Sirius simply nodded and assisted the elder where he could.

Sirius carefully noted where each piece fitted and how it was fastened. He listened to Kingsley's father as he explained the exceptional quality of his armour along with the design process. He described how he sought to create a piece that was flexible and perfect for stealth, but also tough and able to withstand crippling blows. The material was dark, as though the father had requested the exact hue of the shadows and rugged tree bark at dusk.

"For the grand finale," the father declared as he reached for the final two pieces.

"Wouldn't a helmet be a better choice?" Sirius questioned, perplexed.

"No! These are a masterpiece. They will give you the perfect edge. This hood, feel it, go on! Try and stab it. Like the armour, it's flexible, tough and completely fireproof. Your senses won't be dimmed by the confines of a metal cage and if you knock against anything there will be no noise. Helmets reflect light, and one glint is all it takes for some beasts. No, I've spent many hours designing this," the father explained. Sirius felt the material, and indeed it was as he said. Kingsley even demonstrated with his new sword that the hood would not tear under an assault. Sirius was still slightly dubious over its practicality, knowing that if Fenrir managed to clamp his jaws anywhere near his head it would all be over. Then again, his head would be crushed whether it was in a sack or a tin can. In the past, Sirius simply wore what was available and did not ponder too greatly on stealth because his sheer size and brute strength could usually make up for any shortcomings. He was no longer a battering ram of muscle and weaponry. Now, he would have to refine his skills and consider human tactics.

Sirius allowed for the hood to be fixed onto the armour, surprised and pleased that it did not obscure his peripheral view.

"Now, this is very special," the father said as he pushed the colombina mask into Sirius's hands. Sirius considered it a stunning piece of craftsmanship, a half mask for the upper portion of his face that extended to cover the bridge of his nose. The material was a rich onyx that reminded him of his centaur physique, but across the surface was a myriad of carefully engraved designs. "Look at the rim of the eye holes," the father told Sirius.

Sirius frowned as he focused on the edges of the mask, noticing for the first time how tiny fragments within the material glistened like the scales of a fish.

"What is that?" Sirius asked.

"My very own invention," the father proudly stated. "You're familiar with the flow of magic, yes? The essence of nature as some might call it. Well, embedded into that mask is a very fine metal that is incredibly receptive to the shifts in magical flow. With a little help from me, I have discovered a way to manipulate those properties so that it can have a practical application. Put it on and tell me what you see."

Sirius hesitantly brought the mask to his face, but paused.

"Does this have any side effects?" Sirius asked.

"No, of course not, the mask does all the work," the father reassured.

Kingsley's father assisted with positioning and fixing the mask for the first time and stepped away, his hands outstretched, and waited for Sirius's reaction.

Sirius stood for an immeasurable amount of time, the father and son frozen as they awaited a reaction. When nothing caught his attention, he slowly turned his head to try and determine any changes in his surroundings. All remained as it had been until a wisp of light wavered into view briefly before vanishing. He waited, and the same ripple occurred again, but this time over Kingsley's form.

Sirius took a hesitant step forward, scanning the room for the same mysterious anomaly. In the corner, behind a large freestanding cupboard, small ripples of light flittered into and out of existence. They moved with the finesse of smoke or like a raven's feather being twirled in a young maiden's hands.

"I see ripples of light," Sirius said.

"Success!" the old man cried. "It works. What you're seeing, boy, is the next stage of human evolution."

"I wouldn't go that far," his son quietly muttered.

"Respect your elders! That light is the disturbance of magical flow. Whether a creature is natural or unnatural, blocking magic or utilising magic, it shifts the natural order and that mask can see it. Through trial and error I have finally perfected it. That's why you don't see every insect, or find every creature bigger than a dormouse lighting up like a bonfire."

"It is impressive," Sirius stated diplomatically. "Speaking of mice, you seem to have a small family inhabiting that cupboard."

"I knew it! I told you I wasn't hiding your bloody imported pasta in the flour," Kingsley remarked.

"Dumbledore discussed with us how you were attacked. With that mask, you will have eyes that will match any dark creature. If they're within reach, you'll see them," the father said, ignoring his son.

"I have to admit, I am surprised that you are willing to part with such a piece when you have dedicated so much time to creating it," Sirius said.

"I'd like to say it comes with the job, but not on this occasion. Dumbledore also mentioned what our armour and weapons for you will eventually encounter," the old man's tone had taken a more sombre quality. Kingsley's expression also darkened, folding his arms as he stared resolutely at the floor.  
>"That living devil took my wife. We spent a week finding and picking up her pieces. No one wants that monster dead more than us. We're not just doing this for Dumbledore or for you, but for us."<p>

"I am sorry for your loss," Sirius said.

"No, don't be sorry, just be successful," Kingsley's father stated, placing a hand on Sirius's upper arm in a gesture of support.

"I will be," Sirius answered.

"I'm surprised you had the restraint," Sirius commented as he turned to Kingsley. The young man was gripping his arms, leaving dents in his skin as he physically shook from repressed rage.

"That I did not chase after him?" Kingsley asked, finding some composure as he was brought out of his thoughts. Sirius nodded. "I'm no hunter and I'm no fool. I know I'd be slaughtered and I couldn't do that to my father. However, if you need anything else, you have our support. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Sirius began, but Kingsley held up a hand to stop him. For all the pair knew, they were simply delivering another young hunter to Death's door and refused to be thanked for the favour.

"Yes, that needs to be shifted over slightly," the father commented as he reached for a buckle on Sirius's armour.

The conversation grew lighter, with several jokes passed, as Sirius's armour was tested the final time for any possible defects. The old man talked through each process, ensuring that Sirius knew every detail of his work as his fingers worked quickly on the sturdy material. Sirius wondered briefly how the old man was able to gather such precise measurements for his frame. He concluded that Dumbledore must have delivered them, but how he had known was another matter. Sirius was unsure whether he wanted to know and perhaps it was better not to ask.

"Keep it on. You need to break it in and you might find that the added protection comes in useful," the old man said as Sirius began to pull at a strap. Sirius agreed, deciding then to attach his sheathed sword to complete his new attire. His old clothes were placed in a hessian sack and with a rope he formed a simple bag to sling over his shoulder so that he could leave his hands free.

"Good luck, and come back soon," the old man said as they stood by the front door, light from the mid-afternoon sun flooding in. Sirius nodded and was about to leave when he felt the old man pull him back slightly. "I'm serious. You better come back because I don't make such fine armour for failures." Sirius blinked, but smirked when the father and son pair grinned in unison.

Sirius found that he still captured the attention of passing humans. Then again, his armour made it apparent that he was related to some combat based profession. He also doubted whether many hunters or soldiers passed through this area. Therefore, whilst not completely bizarre, Sirius was a reasonable spectacle. Either way, he was discovering that whatever action he chose people would stare.

* * *

><p>Sirius was relieved when he could finally grip the cold front door handle of Dumbledore's abode. If the pain in his leg could be translated into a single noise it would be a long and piercing shriek. The discomfort began due to standing for far longer than he had been accustomed to, but the pain intensified during his return journey. His stubbornness to leave both canes was met with swift punishment.<p>

He gripped the windowsill with one hand as he slung the bag he had been carrying onto a small oak table. He used the other hand to try and open the bag so that he could remove his clothes. His body needed some reprieve from the weight of the armour and the strangeness of the thick material clutching his lower half.

His head immediately darted up at the sound of wood crashing to the floor, swiftly followed by fragile glass shattering in small explosions.

Light danced around the startled figure as Sirius watched the disruption to the magical flow through the mask. However, as Sirius registered the luminous honeyed eyes staring at him with fear, the young man did not seem as fragile as in his bandaged comatose state. He recognised the panicked figure as Dumbledore's apprentice. He watched as Remus reached into his apron, the supplies he was carrying lay broken at his feet, and pulled out a small serrated knife. He held it pointed towards Sirius, standing still and yet visibly shaking.

"You're not the only dangerous one, thief!" Remus exclaimed, his voice wavering as he brandished the knife. Sirius blinked slowly, unimpressed by the pathetic werewolf, knowing that Remus would be unable to see his expression.

"The only dangerous one in here is the animal with a knife," Sirius responded. Shock and confusion flashed across Remus's face.

"I was wondering when you would return," Dumbledore said as he walked into the room as if on cue. "There's nothing to fear, Remus, Sirius is a friend. He was the centaur I aided whilst you were at the Shrieking Shack." Sirius snorted quietly, but Dumbledore did not comment.

"Shrieking Shack?" Sirius asked with a raised brow. He couldn't fault them on a lack of creativity.

"Remus spends the full moons at the Shrieking Shack because it's safer than roaming the woods alone. That old house is avoided because there are rumours it is haunted, and even hunters avoid disgruntled spirits if they keep to their own space. Usually, Remus only goes on the day before the full moon, but with Fenrir in the area we believed that if we avoided travelling so close to the time of transformation we would avoid his heightened patrols. We were mistaken," Dumbledore explained.

"Wait, wait, you mean the same Sirius from all the stories?" Remus asked. Whilst he did not move, Remus's eyes repeatedly flickered between Sirius's masked face and his legs.

"If you make one comment I'll gut you right here and now," Sirius warned as he placed a hand on the hilt of his new sword. Remus's eyes unconsciously glanced back down to see his very human appendages and Sirius seethed. He did not draw his sword, but strode briskly, ignoring his complaining bones, into the adjacent kitchen and slammed the door behind him. Whilst he could have turned around and walked back outside, Sirius was stubborn and refused to be defeated by a werewolf. He also contemplated whether sitting on a patch of grass with his newly made armour and even stiffer legs was wise. Embarrassment was not a running theme he wished to maintain and he did not want to have to ask for assistance later. He just needed to rest on a kitchen stool and calm down before he really did kill the werewolf.

* * *

><p>Sirius perched on the old stool, the frame wobbled on the uneven stones. He steadied his breathing, watching as a dutiful bee made its rounds of the ever blossoming flowers in Dumbledore's garden, but voices slipped into his thoughts and teased his ears.<p>

"Are you sure that is the same Sirius? He doesn't really fit my image of a centaur, unless I am mistaken somewhere," Remus said doubtfully. Sirius had tuned in upon hearing his name, but gritted his teeth at the insult. He was not needlessly curious, but Sirius felt compelled to listen to their conversation as though he were storing up ammunition for when it came time to shoot the beast down.

"I have told you that Sirius was hunting Fenrir when he was attacked and his legs were shattered. He was almost dead when I found him, but, fortunately, I was able to treat his injuries. What I failed to mention was that I transformed him into a human in order to give him another chance. He has been living here, adjusting to his new body, whilst you have been unconscious. I should have informed you of all the details, but it slipped my mind and that is my error. I believe he is capable of defeating Fenrir and will also be able to protect you," Dumbledore explained to his apprentice.

"That explains the bed in the living room, but why would he protect me? I'm a werewolf, a monster. I am not only the sort of thing he usually kills, but I am made by the very creature he probably really wants to kill," Remus argued. Sirius smirked, but it was not through amusement and his gaze had become like impenetrable glacial sheets. At least the werewolf was self-aware.

"It is not about what you are, Remus, but who you are. Sirius will find that he needs you just as much as you need him. His reputation precedes him, but he is still growing," Dumbledore said.

"I understand, but why would he protect me?!" Remus asked with growing frustration.

"Sirius has reason to keep you safe until Fenrir is dead. He is not untrustworthy," Dumbledore stated with finality. Remus gave an audible sigh, clearly frustrated by the evasiveness of Dumbledore's answers. Sirius wanted to laugh, to tear the old man's carefully constructed words of praise and security with a defiant and mocking chuckle. Instead, he remained silent and entertained the idea of hunting Remus after reclaiming his former body, ridding the world of any remaining traces of Fenrir.

* * *

><p>Sirius deliberately avoided Remus and Dumbledore. He became like a ghost, always caught on the periphery as he would exit a room as soon as another entered. It was easier to avoid the pair when they were together because he would frequently hear the murmuring of voices traversing the halls as they held long debates. Remus's responses were usually emotive and held an edge of frustration, whilst Dumbledore maintained his whimsical calmness.<p>

When given the peace to move as he pleased, he assembled his few possessions and carefully packed them in his makeshift bag. He also searched the pantry and kitchen stores for any food supplies he could carry. He did not want to take any more than he needed, gathering just enough to ensure he would not fall into immediate difficulty.

His patience was tested when he strapped on his armour and adjusted each segment.

Fresh dew clung to the supple leaves, becoming golden crystals as they reflected the morning light. Sirius stood on the threshold, the fresh breeze caressing a loose strand of hair as it hung over his brow.

"Are we leaving now? Let me just grab my bag from my room. I packed everything last night," Remus quietly and hesitantly told Sirius. The werewolf had entered the room with curious eyes, gripping the doorframe as though he were holding himself up after a marathon, understanding the situation from Sirius's attire and fully packed bag. The only remnant of Sirius's residency was his bed, which still sat in the main living space surrounded by books.

Sirius cursed that he had not left before dawn, having uncharacteristically overslept. He stood seemingly patiently, as though he had not been planning to leave before the pair noticed his absence. Perhaps he should have risked travelling under the cover of night. At the very least, he would have to learn how to move with more stealth. He was so used to the unavoidable ruckus that was caused by his large centaur frame and the hard hooves knocking against the ground that he forgot humans could move with greater secrecy. The werewolf had clearly heard his movements and was prepared to match Sirius's motions. Then again, Sirius was desperate to regain his former body and had to abide by Dumbledore's terms.

"I'd like to say goodbye to Dumbledore before we leave," Remus said. Sirius did not comment, but turned away from the werewolf and stepped outside onto the front path. A light mist clung to the trees and the hills, soon to be dismissed as the sun promised a clear day. Remus muttered under his breath before hitching his bag onto his shoulders and followed the hunter onto the dusty dirt road.

"Dumbledore mentioned that we were welcome to take a horse," Remus quickly stated. For the first time, Sirius made a deliberate motion to show that he was acutely aware of the werewolf and not wholeheartedly ignoring him. He stood in the middle of the road and turned to simply glare at Remus, although his mask would have obscured his expression and so Remus was faced with a formidable figure silently staring at him. Remus was intimidated by the hunter, unconsciously taking a step back. He realised, on some level, he had insulted Sirius and so he did not press the topic.

It took several hours of silence before Remus tried to converse with the masked hunter again.

"Where are we going?" Remus asked. His feet ached and his injuries from the full moon still burned. Sirius was also suffering from his own wounds, but as far as the werewolf was concerned he was uninhibited by any bodily complaints and could continue walking until dusk.

"Do not talk to me and keep your distance," was all Sirius said.

* * *

><p>Illness, events and some minor plot related pondering has delayed the release of this chapter.<br>Therefore, I have made this chapter slightly longer and with a conscious Remus and Sirius.  
>How do you like the story so far?<br>What are your opinions on the characters?  
>Please Review!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

Eventually, the pain became relentless and Sirius began to visibly limp. He had persevered, stopping only briefly to drink from a flask or to relieve himself, but as the day was drawing to a close so was his endurance.

Sirius glanced up, judging how long before nightfall. The sky was already peeling away the blue to make way for a procession of gold and orange. Sirius's mood was steadily deteriorating with every step as he was accustomed to travelling much further in a shorter space of time. His spirit blazed and writhed within its strange human prison, angered that it was unable to keep up with his demands.

"It's getting late. Perhaps we should think about setting up camp for the night," Remus broached.

Sirius paused and seemed to contemplate their next course of action.

"You're also limping. Dumbledore told me that might happen since your legs are not completely healed. I could probably give you something to ease the pain," Remus added as he moved to stand beside Sirius. He was about to continue when Sirius grunted and strode forward several paces. Sirius could hear the werewolf's frustrated sigh.

However, Remus was surprised to hear Sirius say, "You're right." He had come to the conclusion that Sirius would never regard him as having the capability of intelligent thought, even to the point of ignoring any practical suggestions.

"Wait here," Sirius said as he walked into the forest and left Remus standing in the middle of the road. Remus's senses immediately pushed into overdrive. The road extended beyond the horizon in both directions. The forest stood proudly either side of the manmade track, prepared to reclaim the narrow strip of land. They were in the heart of nowhere, and Remus wondered whether Sirius had decided to abandon the werewolf.

Remus did not even dare pace, fearful of attracting unwanted attention. Despite living in wild forests for several years, he had only encountered a small proportion of what lurked behind the trees. For most creatures, there was little to be gained from hunting a large pack of bloodthirsty werewolves. However, he had heard many stories of what happened to stragglers and oblivious wanderers.

He could feel his blood pulsing, fear settling into his bones as it poured sweet horrors into his thoughts. Dumbledore would seldom leave him alone, especially so close to nightfall. The unfamiliarity of his surroundings was also unnerving.

Remus jumped in surprise when he heard a nearby twig snapping and the sound of leaves being disturbed. Sirius stopped once he had caught Remus's attention and beckoned him to follow. Remus was unsure whether to feel relieved. Despite Dumbledore's reassurance, he did not trust Sirius.

"We'll stay here tonight," Sirius said. He saw Remus frown at the natural clearing, staring down at the leaf littered floor. "Unless you'd prefer to entertain bandits and highwaymen," Sirius added.

Remus was well aware that they could not sleep on the side of the road, but he could not shake his mounting concerns. He realised that he would eventually have to sleep, but he bristled at the thought of being so vulnerable whilst in the presence of a reputable monster hunter. Sirius's injuries did not comfort the werewolf either. He imagined a whole series of gruesome deaths from creatures that could overpower Sirius in his weakened state.

Wanting to occupy his hands and divert his thoughts, Remus pulled open his bag and began to search through his supplies. Whilst the air would cool after sundown, it did not warrant excessive cover. The skies also promised a clear night and so he did not concern himself with building a shelter. Remus's body ached from his transformation, and his suggestion to stop was as much for him as it was for the hunter. So, the werewolf prepared a temporary bed, building up several layers so that he would be comfortable.

Sirius, on the other hand, placed down a mat and considered his bedding complete.

Remus turned to find Sirius sweeping away the forest floor, pushing all the detritus material to the side of their clearing. Only after Sirius had begun digging a small pit did he realise that the hunter was preparing a campfire.

Wordlessly, Remus began to seek out and carry back rocks in order to contain the fire. He felt a compulsion to avoid being wholly useless. Sirius also remained silent, simply moving his hands in order to allow Remus to place the stones around the edge of his pit. They each gathered tinder and firewood without further instruction or comment. Remus found it mildly comforting that the centaur could react to his presence without immediate hostility.

This time, Sirius spoke first.

"I'll return soon," Sirius said after grabbing a small sack from his bag. Remus was about to ask what Sirius was planning to do, but he had already turned his back to the werewolf and was moving through the trees out of sight. Remus sat on his makeshift bed and wondered how Sirius could push himself for so long without yielding to his disgruntled limbs.

* * *

><p>Moths danced in the twilight, but their performance did not soothe Remus. The lack of safety was severely disturbing his nerves.<p>

Again, Remus physically jolted when Sirius approached. This time, the hunter returned with a full sack, holding it by his side.

"I've brought food," Sirius simply stated.

Sirius crouched down, close to where Remus was sitting, and begun to pull out the contents of the sack. He placed a variety of berries, roots and edible leaves on the swept forest floor. Remus did not notice Sirius's covert glances, watching as the young werewolf eyed the spread distastefully.

"I thought so," Sirius said, unwilling to go into any further detail. It was then that Sirius pulled out a freshly killed wild rabbit. Remus's eyes flashed with interest, but he made no other obvious movements.

"Do you know how to skin a rabbit?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Remus simply answered. Remus caught the small carcass that was thrown to him, hesitant to make the next move. Sirius withheld a sigh and leant over to pull out a knife from his larger bag. He passed the utensil to Remus after pointing with the tip of the blade towards the edge of the clearing, in case the werewolf decided to paint their temporary residence red.

"Won't the smell of blood attract things?" Remus asked.

"Disregarding that this area is relatively safe, anything that might be interested in us is not going to be concerned with the smell of one small rabbit. If they consider us food, they'll catch our scent one way or another without help. I thought werewolves lived in the forest, don't you already know all of this?" Sirius questioned Remus for the first time.

"Most creatures tend to avoid large packs of roaming werewolves," Remus stated plainly. He stood up and moved to the edge of their clearing. He was clearly skilled as he nimbly skinned and prepared the rabbit.

"Just how large is Fenrir's pack?" Sirius asked. Remus hesitated, debating whether or not he should answer.

"It varies because the fatality rate is high. Disease, competition, hunters, feuds and even a rejected first transformation have a major impact," Remus said. Sirius continued to stare at him through the mask, a statuesque figure that would only regain life once met with a suitable response. "If I had to guess, I would say there is anywhere between fifteen and thirty at a time. Like I said, it really varies."

"How did you survive so long?" Sirius asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

"What do you mean?" Remus tried to reclaim control over the conversation.

"You're small for a werewolf. Your idea of being threatening is waving around a serrated knife. You have little survival instinct and you're easily spooked," Sirius listed. Remus felt heat rushing into his cheeks as he realised that the hunter had noticed his uneasiness whilst being left alone.

"I'm not completely useless," Remus said, evading a full answer.

"That remains to be seen," Sirius muttered, causing Remus to frown.

Remus tried to cook the rabbit to the best of his abilities with the little he had. It was difficult, opting to skewer the meat and rest it over the open flames. It was a lengthy process and Sirius did not intervene as he ate the vegetable matter he had gathered.  
>When Remus was finally satisfied, he pulled the rabbit from the fire and offered Sirius his fair share. Whilst parts were blackened from being unevenly cooked, Remus still considered his efforts successful. The hunter looked at the offered meat, but quietly declined.<p>

"It's cooked through," Remus tried to reassure in case he had offended Sirius. He did not want to be responsible for ruining the hunter's dinner and further irritating him.

"I'm not partial to rabbit," Sirius said before slipping another berry into his mouth. There was no hidden malice or underlying threat in his tone, so Remus nodded and helped himself. Remus couldn't understand why Sirius had caught the rabbit if he didn't wish to eat it. A part of Remus liked to believe that Dumbledore's words were true and that Sirius would ensure he was kept safe. However, the more rational side of Remus decided it must have been on a whim, or that he just liked to kill. Perhaps it was some twisted joke to watch the vicious wolf consume a small and helpless mammal.

* * *

><p>Sirius awoke before dawn, eager to continue their journey. Almost as soon as they finished eating dinner, the pair had decided that being unconscious was preferable to maintaining an awkward conversation or tense silence. Neither slept comfortably, both listening out for danger. As far as the other was concerned, their greatest threat was lying several feet away.<p>

The blackened twigs lay cold. The fire's warmth had long since deserted them. Remus lay still, having finally fallen into slumber's arms, whist Sirius dissembled their makeshift camp. Sirius took time to stretch out his stiff joints as he had only removed some of his protective armour to sleep.

Almost as though on cue, Remus stirred as soon as Sirius had secured the final strap on his vambrace. The werewolf seemed perplexed at first, staring out at the forest with bleary eyes, but reality must have rammed into him because he sprung up and began to frantically search his surroundings. He stopped as soon as his eyes came to rest on the masked hunter, who barely acknowledged Remus's panicked outburst as he rolled up his mat.

"Get moving, we need to leave," Sirius said. Remus quickly nodded and scrambled to prepare.

They walked for miles, following the old and lonely road. Not even a merchants' carriage could be seen. Their string of pleasant fortune came to an end when, without significant warning, they were surrounded by a pack of large wolves. Sirius's hand reached for the hilt of his sword as soon as the first grinning beast stood before them in the middle of the road. Within seconds its comrades blocked their chances for escape. Sirius looked into the harsh yellow orbs that stared at him hungrily and without mercy. He wondered if they seemed threatening because they were abnormally large or if it was because he had lost his impressive size and so his face was that much closer to their gnashing teeth.

"Can you call them off?" Sirius asked Remus without humour.

"I'm not an animal!" Remus harshly retorted. Sirius glanced at the werewolf to find water pooling at the base of his eyes and threatening to spill over as tears. Remus appeared to be angered and wounded by the request, bearing similarities to Sirius's response in relation to his human legs. Sirius brought his attention back to the most immediate danger.

The sword slid smoothly out of its scabbard and the blade glinted in the sunlight. Sirius decided to regard the situation positively, seeing it as an opportunity to practice fighting with his new body. As soon as his bag thudded onto the floor, freeing his movement, the first wolf launched.

The wolves were determined and relentless, spurred on by an unyielding hunger. The sword came down and one wolf cried out. The process was repeated, the road becoming darker as it soaked in their blood. Sirius reacted to Remus's cries and kept the snapping jaws away from the pathetic creature. Sirius knew instantly that things weren't right. He would kill the wolves, but he could feel the difference in fluidity and how his sword no longer moved as surely as it once did. Against the unnatural and monstrous he was as dangerous as the wolves that fell by his blade. He had to improve, refine his technique, and quickly.

"That was incredible," Remus said after the last wolf was slain, wide eyed at the scene of carnage.

"It's my job," Sirius responded. He decided not to make the werewolf aware of his concerns, choosing a different tact. "You're one on Fenrir's. Can't you fight?"

Remus's gaze instantly dropped.

"No, I can't," Remus said. "I was always reprimanded because it should be in my nature."

Sirius was beginning to see that not all werewolves were heartless killers. That would have been somewhat useful. However, Sirius wanted to know how Remus had survived for so long within the pack.

"Were you injured?" Sirius questioned.

"Injured?" Remus repeated, frowning slightly as he was brought out of his pensive state.

"By the wolves, were you injured?" Sirius asked again.

"Oh, no, I'm fine. You managed to get them before they could bite me. Thank you," Remus answered. Sirius grunted and bent over to wipe his blade on a patch of untainted fur. Once clean, he slid the sword back into its sheath and picked up his bag again. Without another word, the pair continued on.

* * *

><p>Sirius appeared more at ease as soon as they crossed an old wooden bridge. Remus watched as the hunter took more time to regard his surroundings, no longer seeking each hidden corner. Admittedly, Sirius had not pined for home, but once surrounded by familiar landmarks and time weathered trees he realised how close he had been to losing everything.<p>

Remus chose to leave Sirius to his thoughts. He said nothing as Sirius strode forward, the hunter barely pausing when it came to forked paths. The surety of his step unintentionally comforted Remus.

"Well, what do we have here?" a local drawled, sticking his gut out and glancing at his peers.

Sirius was brought out of his thoughts, his head turning to analyse the seven large men. It did not take him long to gain his bearings and shift his stance in preparation for combat.

"We're just passing through. We are pressed for time, so excuse us for being unable to entertain," Sirius said through his teeth as he forced a grim smile.

"You can be well on your way then, so long as you pay the toll," the leader of the group of village thugs stated.

"Toll?" Sirius questioned with increasing annoyance.

"Aye, a toll, because this, here, is the main road to Hogsmeade. We can't just let everyone traipse back and forth through our village and across our land," he explained.

"The road also needs maintenance," a weedier fellow added, his grin revealing a shortage of teeth.

"We don't judge who comes through, just as long as you pay," the leader said, his eyes lingering on the masked and armour cladded form of Sirius.

"I'll give you a bloody toll," Sirius muttered as he began to reach for his sword, pausing when a pale hand lightly touched his wrist. He almost jumped, not expecting the werewolf to attempt any form of physical contact.

"Wait, violence may cause us more problems than it's worth," Remus quietly told Sirius. The group of charlatans watched the pair, allowing them to debate their options. Whilst Sirius presented a risk, especially as it was evident that he was capable of being a satisfactory opponent, they felt that, with their numbers, they could overpower him.

"Bringing them down won't be an issue," Sirius confidently stated.

"Yes, I believe you, but that won't help us. Ignoring the fact that you could still get injured and be left in an even worse condition, they're just desperate people. If you slaughter them, do you believe it will end there? They have families, and someone is bound to see us passing through and realise. We may even be arrested. Then what will we do?" Remus quickly whispered, allowing his thoughts to roll along.

"Do you have an alternative?" Sirius asked. Remus was slightly surprised to hear Sirius's response, expecting to be shoved aside and ignored. He was prepared to find solace in knowing that he tried.

"Yes, I do," Remus answered with certainty. Remus was instinctively strategic and seldom used his words emptily. Perhaps he could prove to the hunter he was not useless. It may help to extend his life.

"Sorry, my companion is agitated because we have been travelling for many days and want to reach our destination as soon as possible. How much is this toll that you speak of?" Remus asked the men. This time, Sirius was presented with the unexpected as Remus spoke charismatically and with an air of confidence he had not seen before.

"Three silver coins," the largest thug stated. His companions chuckled quietly.

"My, that is expensive. Is there not another way through?" Remus said.

"You could try going around, but it'll take you weeks. We recently found the bones of the last travellers that thought they could go through the forest," the leader told them, picking at something beneath his nail.

Remus glanced at Sirius and saw a grimace. Despite believing in Sirius's capabilities, he did not want to push the injured man. Dumbledore believed that Sirius was Remus's best chance at survival. Whilst Remus was unconvinced, he was not about to deliberately prove Dumbledore wrong and further problematize his situation.

"I am afraid, good sirs, that we do not have any money on us. It is one of the reasons why we must continue on our journey as soon as possible. However, in exchange, I can offer you some imported Durmstrang spirit. It should cover the cost," Remus said.

Remus could hear the entire conversation as the group whispered to each other. His ears twitched as they anticipated catching their treacherous voices.

"I haven't had a good drink in ages. I'm sick of the taverns watered down piss," an individual commented, rubbing a ruddy cheek.

"We'll take the drink and say that it's rubbish," a gangly looking man declared.

"What are you on about, Smithson?" the largest man said with a sneer.

"Then we'll complain that it's horrible and that they tried to trick us. Heck, could even say it makes us nauseous and we need compensation. We'll just shake them down a little until they give us something decent. The masked one looks like he has a good sword," Smithson added.

"But, aren't we mugging them then? What if the guards find out?" another voiced his concerns.

"I can't believe you're so thick. It's a compensation fee, not a mugging. We don't take everything and we haven't been caught yet," the scheming Smithson stated irritably. "We just need to get as much out of them as possible without messing them up. The guards will have no evidence," Smithson finished with a sigh. Remus withheld his own sigh of exasperation at their idiocy.

"Aye, we'll accept," the leader turned to the pair, deciding to end the debate.

Sirius remained still, watching as Remus slid his bag off his shoulders and began to sift through the contents. He was careful to ensure that anything valuable remained out of sight. Eventually, he pulled out a small sealed bottle.

He extended his arm out and waited for one of the thieves to claim their prize. The leader, asserting his dominance, marched forward and proudly grasped the bottle. Immediately, he opened it and took a swig. He then passed it to his companions, who greedily guzzled the remaining liquid until the bottle was empty.

"That stuff tastes peculiar," the leader commented as he contemplated the lingering taste on his tongue.

"My stomach hurts," Smithson said. Sirius made no obvious movements, and Remus did not know whether the hunter realised that Smithson was acting.

"Yeah, yeah, I don't feel so well either," another added hastily.

Remus waited patiently until their eyes began to widen. Fear flickered across their pupils and thrashed in their veins. They stared at Remus and Sirius in horror, growing pale with terror. Their shrieks pierced the peaceful hum of the forest, their arms reaching out as they scrambled backwards. The men begged for mercy before their legs could regain control and carry them as fast as they could run. They scattered, paying little attention to direction and simply seeking distance.

"What just happened?" Sirius asked Remus, not even wanting to try and guess what had occurred.

"It's an old trick. I knew they wouldn't settle until they had something we could not afford to part with, so I provided them with a reason to leave us alone," Remus said.

"What did you give them?" Sirius asked.

"It's called liquid horror, if you must know. You start to hallucinate. Your mind will create something that you find terrifying. I was almost certain that those drunkards would immediately drink it instead of keeping or selling it. I prepared it back at Dumbledore's because I suspected that it might come in useful. Apparently, I was right," Remus continued with.

"I did not know you were smart," Sirius finally said after a moment's pause.

"My apologies, should I have mentioned that during our introduction?" Remus responded, still feeling the adrenaline.

"What?" Sirius bluntly responded.

"Good afternoon, I see you're offended by my existence. I feel I must also warn you that I have some degree of intelligence, especially against dim thugs," Remus remarked.

Remus was regretful of his flippant words as the hunter stared at him. However, to Remus's surprise, for the first time, Sirius then snickered. It did not last long, and Remus was unsure whether the hunter had laughed at all as his expression swiftly fell back into its sombre state.

* * *

><p>They passed through several settlements before reaching a small and insignificant town. Sirius tended to avoid such spaces as they exuded poverty and banality. The area had grown too large to be considered a village, obtaining a few basic amenities such as a tavern and place of worship, but was mainly inhabited by prejudiced and uneducated peasants. Sirius's hostile opinions originated from previous unfortunate experiences in such places. If Sirius was to be surrounded by humans, he preferred those that had exposure to the larger towns where knowledge and innovation were more commonplace.<p>

Remus watched as Sirius's demeanour changed and he was once again wary. Crickets chirped merrily in the evening light, ignorant of the hunter's mood as he stepped into the tavern. They sat by the bar, Remus shifting uncomfortably on his stool.

Sirius held up two fingers to the tavern keeper as he ordered two tankards of mead. The gruff looking bartender nodded in response and turned to supply them with their order of alcohol.

Remus tried to still his quaking hands, prepared for someone to stand up and declare that there was a monster in their midst. He was rarely surrounded by so many humans. However, he found that eyes curiously followed his companion and left him alone. Remus uttered a small gasp when a tankard was suddenly placed in front of him, the honeyed liquid sloshing around in its container from the rough handling. Remus regarded the beverage, but Sirius immediately pulled the sweet drink to his lips and drunk deeply.

Sirius appeared to be covertly waiting for something to occur. Remus could not understand why the unsociable hunter would choose to sit in a tavern full of humans when he had been so adamant about continuing their journey with a minimal amount of rest. Remus still did not know where the hunter was leading them.

Once several individuals entered the tavern, Sirius's entire posture changed again and he appeared nonchalant. Remus only realised that he had never truly seen Sirius's face when he lowered his hood and begun to pull off the mask.  
>Blood pumped more fiercely through Remus's arteries as his heart quickened. It was as though liquid silver had been poured into Sirius's eyes, another weapon to use against curious dark creatures. Defined cheekbones and a stern brow only made Sirius look more severe, but Remus could not help but stare. He was reminded of the paintings Dumbledore had shown him of ancient heroes, created to fit an ideal that was worthy of admiration.<p>

"Wait here unless I call you," Sirius said before sliding off his stool and walking across the room with his drink. Within seconds he wore a carefree grin. He greeted the group that had just arrived and sat beside a young woman who appeared flattered by the sudden attention.

Remus, feeling awkward and confused, sipped at the mead. He delighted at its sweetness, beginning to drink more frequently as he watched Sirius interact with the strangers. He had never seen the centaur so amiable, and wondered how much of this personality was a construction and whether his ornery nature was primarily caused by his forced companionship with the werewolf. From the snippets of conversation that reached Remus's ears over the constant burble of conversation in the room, it was clear that Sirius was unfamiliar with the vibrant group. The only distinguishing feature that separated them from the rest of the revellers was their attire, clearly made of finer and brighter quality than the local inhabitants.

Whenever Sirius called for another drink, Remus was also provided with a beverage. Despite being distanced from the group, forced to remain on the periphery, Remus did not feel completely isolated. Their laughter was contagious, eliciting a small smile from the werewolf. He wondered how life would be if he were completely human. Perhaps then he would have friends like the group of strangers. He supposed that Sirius was technically inhuman, but he was not a monster.

It was the early hours of the morning before Sirius reclaimed his place beside Remus, his wit sharp despite the gentle sway in his movements.

"Come on, we're leaving," Sirius told Remus. Remus nodded and stood up, grabbing the counter when he realised how much alcohol was coursing through his system.

Sirius guided them to a nearby pasture and allowed his body to sink onto the cool grass.

"Get some sleep whilst you can," Sirius said as he placed his bag to the side and lay down.

"Are we sleeping here?" Remus asked, noticing a slight slur in his voice.

"The night is warm and the grass is soft. We're close to a bunch of violent and stupid humans, which usually scares off most pests," Sirius mumbled, his eyes already closed.

"I was thinking of things that considered human a part of their diet," Remus answered quietly as he surveyed their surroundings warily.

"If there was something lurking in the area, I would have heard something. No one is afraid and there are no rumours. Not even a cow has been taken," Sirius answered, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

"I suppose so," Remus said quietly, unconvinced.

In one fluid motion, Sirius reached up to grab Remus's arm and pull him down to the ground.

"Just go to sleep. You're making me nervous," Sirius complained before closing his eyes again, a small frown on his features. Remus sat perplexed, but then he shrugged and resigned himself to whatever fate awaited them. It didn't take long for the pair to fall asleep, neither deeming it important to keep vigil.

* * *

><p>"What did you want from that group at the tavern?" Remus finally asked as they continued their journey. Sirius grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose to try and rid himself of his persistent headache.<p>

"Information," Sirius said.

"What sort of information?" Remus continued. It had been several hours since their last exchange of words, and Remus was realising that he would have to push if we wanted to remain informed. He did not enjoy the prospect of blindly trusting the hunter for every decision. He also wanted to know more about Sirius. He wanted to be able to read and understand the strange individual who had the capability of saving or destroying him.

Sirius sighed. "Travellers are usually well-informed about what's happening on the local roads. I was hoping to hear something interesting or useful. It's also a decent method for finding future work," he commented.

"So, did you hear anything interesting?" Remus tried his luck to see if he could get the centaur to continue answering his questions.

"How many questions are you going to ask? If I tell you, will you be quiet?" Sirius took control of the conversation.

"Yes," Remus quietly responded, his eyes shifting downwards to avoid Sirius's gaze.

"Good. They told me something unexpected, but interesting. We're making a slight detour," Sirius told Remus.

"Where are we going?" Remus immediately questioned, but was rebuked with a frosted glare. Sirius's pace quickened, stepping ahead of Remus to reiterate that their conversation was over.

Remus did not even hesitate to follow Sirius when he stepped off the road and followed a disused pathway through the forest. Remus tried to orientate himself, memorising landmarks so that he would be able to find the road again in an emergency.

Remus had even less hope of understanding Sirius because he had replaced the mask. The subtle twitch of Sirius's mouth and the careful positioning of his body was all Remus could use to analyse the centaur. Sirius scanned the forest floor, pushing aside foliage as he searched.

Remus's senses responded to the taste of conflict in the air and the smell of survival, both steadily dissipating. He noticed that the forest had been disturbed, twigs snapped and soil churned from recent action. Sirius moved faster, clearly having found what he had been searching for. Remus strained to listen for any lingering danger, hyper aware of his surroundings. Sirius did not seem perturbed, focusing on his current task.

Finally, Sirius made a triumphant sound as he plucked something off of its bed of leaves. Sirius contemplated the object, turning it over in one hand whilst resting the other on his chin.

"I wonder," Sirius muttered. He turned the snapped arrow-head over again, trying to determine who had used it. It was simply made, with no defining features, and so could easily have come from a hunter, bandit, or even a soldier in the right circumstances.

He tossed the object to Remus, who instinctively caught it. Remus cried out in pain, dropping the arrow-head on the floor as he gripped his wounded hand. His limbs shook from the shock, a miniscule stream of smoke flitted into view before disappearing. Remus's vision blurred as tears pooled, threatening to spill. He blinked to clear his sight and glanced at the palm of his hand, wincing when he saw the ferocious red burn.

"Interesting," Sirius commented. "We're going the right way."

* * *

><p>Please review!<br>I like to know what you think. It motivates me.  
>What do you think of the story? What do you think of the characters? Enjoying the plot? Do you have any ideas about what may happen next? Let me know!<p> 


End file.
